I first arrived in the United States eleven years ago (Oct 2012) as part of an exchange program, hosted by the Atlantic Council. I stayed for a month, left for Pakistan, returned in July/August 2015 for a summer camp in Maine and have lived here since Dec 2016. I did not grow up liking the United States, because of how it was portrayed in Pakistan’s media (as a global superpower that is hegemonic and against muslims, involved in conspiracies against Pakistan and other Islamic countries). Until I started reading more books in English and the local English language newspapers, this was the worldview I lived with (and I believe many people who live in that bubble still do). I had never met an ‘American’ until I was in my 20s. I had absorbed a lot of American culture though, through Hollywood, through TV shows (hello, Seinfeld and The Daily Show), music and literature.
During my first year of medical school, I remember talking to some of my seniors about future directions. I told them that I wanted to go the UK for residency/fellowships. They told me I was bright enough to go wherever I wanted (they overestimated). I got into the exchange program while doing internship after medical school. I was burned out and depressed. I sought that opportunity as a temporary escape. I had no intention of staying. During the month I spent here, I traveled a lot, met a lot of people, did a lot of touristy things, observed as much as I could. When I returned to Pakistan, I wrote about things that I disliked about the U.S. (consumerism, bland food, bland sugar packets, wastage of electricity by commercial properties, nationalism, gift shops outside every monument). There were also things that I liked: walkability in a few cities that I was in (NYC, DC, SF), people smiling at each other, how open people were (compared to Pakistan where if someone was ever friendly with you, you looked at them with suspicion), bookshops, coffee shops (third spaces?), how easy it was to travel domestically, the generosity of some people (a taxi driver from Pakistan refused to charge us when he found out that me and my friends were from there) and civic spirit.
While I was in DC, I had planned to visit with a cousin who lived there with her husband and three sons. My cousin’s husband had a business and he supplemented it by driving a Taxi in the evening (this was before Uber/Lyft were commonplace). Two days before I was supposed to visit them, I got a call from my cousin. She was tearful and could barely say a word. She told me that her husband had not returned home last night after the taxi driving, and she had just gotten a call by the police saying he was dead. He had been shot to death by a couple who had planned to rob him. He was 44 years old.
The night before I was to visit my cousin, I was woken up by a ringing telephone in my hotel room around 3 am. I thought it was either a prank or the hotel people had made a mistake. I picked the phone to hear one of my female friends crying and asking me to come to her room ASAP. I went over and saw two hotel employees who had restrained a man outside her room, she was in a dishevelled state, her shirt half-torn, a black eye and tears running down her face. The guy had tried to assault her and she had called security.
Our group flew to Atlanta later that day. We met a peace activist in a lecture hall at Georgia Tech and he gave us copies of Dr. Martin Luther King’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail”. We later visited the MLK memorial and talked to a guy who had driven MLK around. He did not mince any words and pointed towards persistent racism as a constant presence in American political life,
In a span of a week, I encountered three major fault-lines in the United States: Gun Violence, Sexual Violence and Racism. When I decided to leave Pakistan for good, I had to consider what I was getting into. My choices were getting lynched or killed for my beliefs or some mild racism here and there. Despite the gun epidemic in the US, Pakistan is not very safe either, or free of racism, or sexual violence. I have travelled far and wide in the United States, by foot, bus, train, car, and airplane. I have almost never felt unsafe, except that one time a homeless man chased me in Houston. Many of these experiences are peculiar to me since I was privileged in Pakistan (upper middle class family, son of a doctor, went to private boarding school), and I am privileged here (medical professional, middle class, very little ‘accent’).
I titled my first ever blog on my US experience as ‘the land of opportunity’. I still think that is true. People much less privileged than me have adopted this country and made a life for themselves. This country has given a lot to me, and has taken a few things from me; a barter that happens in the process of migration. I’ll finish this by quoting from Enrique Del Risco:
Emigrating doesn’t just offer you the chance to find a better future — it also allows you to choose the past you like the most.
Love it! I identify myself with your story. The US has given me a lot, but I’ve also given - and giving- it the best of me.